The Trouble with Nargles (The Mistletoe Remix) [Harry Potter; Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood]
Title: The Trouble with Nargles (The Mistletoe Remix)
Author: eustacia_vye28
Summary: The Final Battle can only be won if prophecies are upheld. Luna has the answer, and Neville is determined to help.
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Original Title: The Trouble with Nargles
Original Author: Elanne
URL of original story: http://elanne.livejournal.com/22357.html
In the Völuspá, the Norse Sibyl foretold the death of Balder, Woden's son. "There stands the Mistletoe slender and delicate, blooming high above the ground. Out of this shoot, so slender to look on, there shall grow a harmful fateful shaft. Hod shall shoot it, but Frigga in Fen-hall shall weep over the woe of Wal-hall."
Therein lies the answer, Luna thought, her mind zigging and zagging and pinging in odd different directions. This is what we need.
She read aloud from the book, but Neville didn't seem very interested, just as he hadn't initially seemed very interested in Nargles. Nobody took Nargles seriously. They were tiny, tricksy little creatures with long fingernails, difficult to catch once they found mistletoe to live in. Mistletoe was a goodly little plant, useful in tea for high blood pressure, fertility rites or as a cosmetic. The Nargles, however, made the mistletoe useless for medicine. They drank the sticky sap and ate the fruits, leaving nothing left as a medicine. And once it was all used up, they dropped straight down from their cozy mistletoe home and into the hair of whatever passerby there was. And the trouble with Nargles was that they were so insidiously hard to get rid of. The poor victim could suffer with a Nargle infestation and just not know why they were so tired.
Luna looked down at the book in her lap. He didn't understand. Neville didn't understand the abstract, how history repeated when you weren't looking, how sometimes it was possible to change the course of history if you worked hard enough.
"Maybe I’m not very good at believing," he said after a moment. "But we can try. Should we find some mistletoe?"
Maybe it wasn't lost on Neville after all. They had spent the past few days talking. While she might not have always made sense to him, he had always listened. Perhaps he realized that hope should never be lost. Whatever the reason, Luna beamed at him. "Good," she said, feeling as if perhaps this wasn't an unreachable goal. Neville looked stunned, as if a Trinhorned Neliper had just bitten him on the leg. She would have to check with him later to see if he had bite marks; their bites were notorious for getting infected. It wouldn't do to save the Wizarding World only to have Neville go to the hospital with an infection.
They fashioned a dart of mistletoe, infusing as much love as they could into their creation. Love would save the world. It was fashioned out of love, and love was the one thing that Voldemort didn't have. Love would lead the Dark Lord from Darkness into Light, and would let the world continue to function.
Neville smiled at her sometimes. He kept the dart with him at all times, and they still took their evening walks. It has to simmer and build, he had told her. Isn't that true for any good recipe? There's a waiting period.
They had made the dart on Christmas day. That was fitting; Balder had been like Christ. They died and would rise again, and had been full of love for their fellows. This was appropriate and right, this was what they were doing.
Luna dreamed of tiny eyes and tiny bodies with long fingernails. She dreamed of dark green mistletoe and milky white seeds. She dreamed of Neville, shyly looking at her and offering a hand to help her up. Prophetic dreams, she thought upon waking. Balder had those, too. She would have to be careful, she knew. Nargles were trouble, and it seems that one might have gotten a hold of her after all.
So when the time came, Luna sent Neville on ahead. He was the one that could have been labeled by prophecy, after all. It made sense for the almost-savior to almost-kill Voldemort's twisted dreams. Luna was caught up by Nargles now, bound up like mistletoe around a sacred Druidic oak. She would keep him safe, and she would keep the Nargles away from their precious dart. Neville had to help Harry, and Neville had to be there. Luna was the only one that could see the Nargles, so she was the one that had to keep them away from the battlefield.
She couldn't remember how she fell on the battlefield. The sprig of mistletoe in her hand kept her from harm. It was a wonderful restorative even in leaf form, and the sprig she had eaten beforehand likely kept her safe. The sprig in her hand served to ward off further pain, and acted as a beacon for lost Nargles on the battlefield.
When Luna was four, her mother first told her of Nargles. When they find you, they never let go. They love mistletoe, Luna. They will always love it. It's part of who they are. Love is one of those kinds of things. You can't explain it, but it shapes you and moves you where you need to be, for better or for worse.
What about us, Mama? she had asked. She was four; she didn't know that death was lurking around the corner. Does it shape us, too?
Oh yes, her mother had laughed. Especially us, my Luna-lee. We are loving creatures, you and I. The one we love will never come to harm, even at risk to ourselves. You wait and see, that's just how it is. If we keep watch over someone, they will never ever come to harm. It's part of what makes us who we are.
Luna hadn't been watching when her mother died. She hadn't known then, she had been too young to understand it. But now she was old enough to know better, and she was old enough to know what love was all about. She had bathed Neville in it during their walks together, had surrounded him with her spirit. She would keep him safe, because it was part of what made her Luna Lovegood. Love made the world spin, just as love made the head spin. She spun with its fragile essence, and spun it back around Neville. He would be safe in his mission. He would help Harry in this battle by delivering the mistletoe dart. It would work its magic and deliver love unto the darkness within Voldemort. It would spell the end of the end he had planned, and all would be well again. The final battle would be won by the side of Light, and the Wizarding World could be rebuilt with love. That was the way it would work.
Somehow she had fallen. She had kept such a close watch over Neville, keeping him from any kind of harm. When he grew tired, she poured her soul to bolster his. Spells didn't come close to him, as if deflected by an invisible shield. Neville didn't get hurt, couldn't get hurt. Luna was watching over him, and no harm could come to him while she was watching. She protected him as best as she could, and didn't keep an eye out for herself. She carried mistletoe for herself; harm should not have come to her. That wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Balder's mother and brother never fell ill in stories, however the version went. Harry's helpers shouldn't have been harmed either.
She lost sight of Neville as she fell, tangled up inside her own arms and legs. He was on his way back to her, eyes wide and mouth gaping wide. Luna didn't feel particularly hurt, just cold. She had dressed for the occasion, in simple linen things and had left her long blonde hair loose. She dressed the way a Druid should dress, however cold it was for New Year's Day. Some things should be adhered to in order for the magic to work.
Luna supposed it was the Nargles, if she really had to think about it. She felt confused and a little shaky, but Nargles surely had that effect on people. She had eaten some mistletoe, and she was carrying mistletoe. She didn't feel them climbing about in her hair, so they weren't tightly fastened on yet. But she knew that if she looked at the mistletoe in her hand, she might find one trying to attach itself. She looked around her, squinting. She could see them, the tiny little creatures. They had tiny eyes and tiny bodies, but long fingernails built for hanging on to things. They couldn't be shaken off easily once they got in a good grip. Luna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep from shivering too hard.
Neville caught up with her. He checked to see if her breath was stolen from her cold lips, and her eyes opened slightly. She tried to smile, but it felt as if the Nargles were going to try and take hold of her throat. "The trouble with Nargles," she said, "is that once they begin to hold on, they won’t ever let go. I'm afraid they won't ever let go."
He checked her hair for Nargles, fingers brushing through the silken strands. There was not one Nargle there, nothing that wasn't supposed to be there.
"Sometimes you have to do things even though you're scared," Neville said.
His fingers were gentle, and he pulled her to a sitting position. Her hair was free, and his fingers came to touch her face. They dropped down from her face to her hands. He found the sprig of mistletoe clenched inside her fist. Carefully, she opened her fingers and showed it to him. His hand closed over hers, and their fingers interlaced. These same hands had used a sprig of mistletoe to fashion a dart of love. These same hands had just assisted Harry in taking down Voldemort. These same hands could help rebuild the damage the Dark Lord had done in his mad quest to take over the Wizarding World.
It kept me safe so I could keep you safe, she thought, blue eyes watching his every move. I kept you safe the best way that I knew how.
He kissed her then, soft and slow, trying to explain how he felt without using words. He wasn't very good at words, not like she was. He was clumsy, broken to pieces and glued back together all wrong. He was angles and odds, something stuck into the Longbottom family tree like an afterthought. It was only lucky that he had made it this far.
Luna didn't see him as a clumsy, broken thing. Neville was strong, with a lovely heart. She believed that he could be whatever he wanted to be. He wasn't an afterthought, he wasn't a spare hero. She didn't see cracks and bumps and forgotten bits of glue. She saw beauty and patterns, a design drawn out of love. She saw the branches of mistletoe, the milky white seeds ready to fall and attach themselves to a new plant, a new home. She saw him as he wished he could see in himself, and she saw the parts of him he hadn't even known were there.
He liked how he looked from her eyes.
Neville looked at her shyly, hand held out to help her up. "It's going to be a long walk home," he murmured. He took the mistletoe from her fist and put it in his pocket after giving it a generous shake. Luna approved mightily, nodding.
"We should Apparate," Luna said softly, threading her fingers through his. "I'm a little cold for a lot of walking."
"You should meet my Gran," Neville replied. "She can be awful stern at times."
"She hopes for the best, doesn't she?" Luna smiled. "Sometimes they're the ones most likely to be infested by Nargles, did you know that? Because their eyes are frail, they don't see the tiny little things until it's too late. Do you think we should check her for Nargles?"
Something in Neville's chest sang with delight. His Gran would be horrified if they checked her for Nargles. But he wanted to now, oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to see what they looked like, and he wanted to see Luna's brilliant smile again. He wanted to feel her hand in his, and he wanted to sit next to her by the fireplace in his Gran's house. He wanted to show her all the things he had known as a boy, all the fearsome places and wonderful sights. He wanted her to find the magic and mystery in the place. He wanted her to see his world through her eyes, to have the wonder infused into it again.
"It's a big house. I think she keeps to the tradition of keeping up the old mistletoe and then burning it on Christmas when she puts the new one up. There might not be Nargles in the house, then, right?" Neville asked.
Luna smiled. "Oh, but they're tenuous creatures. They never let go. Perhaps we may find one, still. It would be awful that was the case."
Neville held her hand tightly. "I want you to meet my Gran, Luna. Really, I do."
"My father will like you, too," Luna replied dreamily, lips stretching into a soft smile. Neville found himself grinning back at her. "You're like him, you know. Serious and hard working, and fighting so hard to keep loved ones safe. You're a sprig of mistletoe yourself."
They kissed again, arms around each other.
For once, he understood everything. And for once, he got Apparition perfectly right.
The End.
Author: eustacia_vye28
Summary: The Final Battle can only be won if prophecies are upheld. Luna has the answer, and Neville is determined to help.
Rating: G
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Original Title: The Trouble with Nargles
Original Author: Elanne
URL of original story: http://elanne.livejournal.com/22357.html
In the Völuspá, the Norse Sibyl foretold the death of Balder, Woden's son. "There stands the Mistletoe slender and delicate, blooming high above the ground. Out of this shoot, so slender to look on, there shall grow a harmful fateful shaft. Hod shall shoot it, but Frigga in Fen-hall shall weep over the woe of Wal-hall."
Therein lies the answer, Luna thought, her mind zigging and zagging and pinging in odd different directions. This is what we need.
She read aloud from the book, but Neville didn't seem very interested, just as he hadn't initially seemed very interested in Nargles. Nobody took Nargles seriously. They were tiny, tricksy little creatures with long fingernails, difficult to catch once they found mistletoe to live in. Mistletoe was a goodly little plant, useful in tea for high blood pressure, fertility rites or as a cosmetic. The Nargles, however, made the mistletoe useless for medicine. They drank the sticky sap and ate the fruits, leaving nothing left as a medicine. And once it was all used up, they dropped straight down from their cozy mistletoe home and into the hair of whatever passerby there was. And the trouble with Nargles was that they were so insidiously hard to get rid of. The poor victim could suffer with a Nargle infestation and just not know why they were so tired.
Luna looked down at the book in her lap. He didn't understand. Neville didn't understand the abstract, how history repeated when you weren't looking, how sometimes it was possible to change the course of history if you worked hard enough.
"Maybe I’m not very good at believing," he said after a moment. "But we can try. Should we find some mistletoe?"
Maybe it wasn't lost on Neville after all. They had spent the past few days talking. While she might not have always made sense to him, he had always listened. Perhaps he realized that hope should never be lost. Whatever the reason, Luna beamed at him. "Good," she said, feeling as if perhaps this wasn't an unreachable goal. Neville looked stunned, as if a Trinhorned Neliper had just bitten him on the leg. She would have to check with him later to see if he had bite marks; their bites were notorious for getting infected. It wouldn't do to save the Wizarding World only to have Neville go to the hospital with an infection.
They fashioned a dart of mistletoe, infusing as much love as they could into their creation. Love would save the world. It was fashioned out of love, and love was the one thing that Voldemort didn't have. Love would lead the Dark Lord from Darkness into Light, and would let the world continue to function.
Neville smiled at her sometimes. He kept the dart with him at all times, and they still took their evening walks. It has to simmer and build, he had told her. Isn't that true for any good recipe? There's a waiting period.
They had made the dart on Christmas day. That was fitting; Balder had been like Christ. They died and would rise again, and had been full of love for their fellows. This was appropriate and right, this was what they were doing.
Luna dreamed of tiny eyes and tiny bodies with long fingernails. She dreamed of dark green mistletoe and milky white seeds. She dreamed of Neville, shyly looking at her and offering a hand to help her up. Prophetic dreams, she thought upon waking. Balder had those, too. She would have to be careful, she knew. Nargles were trouble, and it seems that one might have gotten a hold of her after all.
So when the time came, Luna sent Neville on ahead. He was the one that could have been labeled by prophecy, after all. It made sense for the almost-savior to almost-kill Voldemort's twisted dreams. Luna was caught up by Nargles now, bound up like mistletoe around a sacred Druidic oak. She would keep him safe, and she would keep the Nargles away from their precious dart. Neville had to help Harry, and Neville had to be there. Luna was the only one that could see the Nargles, so she was the one that had to keep them away from the battlefield.
She couldn't remember how she fell on the battlefield. The sprig of mistletoe in her hand kept her from harm. It was a wonderful restorative even in leaf form, and the sprig she had eaten beforehand likely kept her safe. The sprig in her hand served to ward off further pain, and acted as a beacon for lost Nargles on the battlefield.
When Luna was four, her mother first told her of Nargles. When they find you, they never let go. They love mistletoe, Luna. They will always love it. It's part of who they are. Love is one of those kinds of things. You can't explain it, but it shapes you and moves you where you need to be, for better or for worse.
What about us, Mama? she had asked. She was four; she didn't know that death was lurking around the corner. Does it shape us, too?
Oh yes, her mother had laughed. Especially us, my Luna-lee. We are loving creatures, you and I. The one we love will never come to harm, even at risk to ourselves. You wait and see, that's just how it is. If we keep watch over someone, they will never ever come to harm. It's part of what makes us who we are.
Luna hadn't been watching when her mother died. She hadn't known then, she had been too young to understand it. But now she was old enough to know better, and she was old enough to know what love was all about. She had bathed Neville in it during their walks together, had surrounded him with her spirit. She would keep him safe, because it was part of what made her Luna Lovegood. Love made the world spin, just as love made the head spin. She spun with its fragile essence, and spun it back around Neville. He would be safe in his mission. He would help Harry in this battle by delivering the mistletoe dart. It would work its magic and deliver love unto the darkness within Voldemort. It would spell the end of the end he had planned, and all would be well again. The final battle would be won by the side of Light, and the Wizarding World could be rebuilt with love. That was the way it would work.
Somehow she had fallen. She had kept such a close watch over Neville, keeping him from any kind of harm. When he grew tired, she poured her soul to bolster his. Spells didn't come close to him, as if deflected by an invisible shield. Neville didn't get hurt, couldn't get hurt. Luna was watching over him, and no harm could come to him while she was watching. She protected him as best as she could, and didn't keep an eye out for herself. She carried mistletoe for herself; harm should not have come to her. That wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Balder's mother and brother never fell ill in stories, however the version went. Harry's helpers shouldn't have been harmed either.
She lost sight of Neville as she fell, tangled up inside her own arms and legs. He was on his way back to her, eyes wide and mouth gaping wide. Luna didn't feel particularly hurt, just cold. She had dressed for the occasion, in simple linen things and had left her long blonde hair loose. She dressed the way a Druid should dress, however cold it was for New Year's Day. Some things should be adhered to in order for the magic to work.
Luna supposed it was the Nargles, if she really had to think about it. She felt confused and a little shaky, but Nargles surely had that effect on people. She had eaten some mistletoe, and she was carrying mistletoe. She didn't feel them climbing about in her hair, so they weren't tightly fastened on yet. But she knew that if she looked at the mistletoe in her hand, she might find one trying to attach itself. She looked around her, squinting. She could see them, the tiny little creatures. They had tiny eyes and tiny bodies, but long fingernails built for hanging on to things. They couldn't be shaken off easily once they got in a good grip. Luna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep from shivering too hard.
Neville caught up with her. He checked to see if her breath was stolen from her cold lips, and her eyes opened slightly. She tried to smile, but it felt as if the Nargles were going to try and take hold of her throat. "The trouble with Nargles," she said, "is that once they begin to hold on, they won’t ever let go. I'm afraid they won't ever let go."
He checked her hair for Nargles, fingers brushing through the silken strands. There was not one Nargle there, nothing that wasn't supposed to be there.
"Sometimes you have to do things even though you're scared," Neville said.
His fingers were gentle, and he pulled her to a sitting position. Her hair was free, and his fingers came to touch her face. They dropped down from her face to her hands. He found the sprig of mistletoe clenched inside her fist. Carefully, she opened her fingers and showed it to him. His hand closed over hers, and their fingers interlaced. These same hands had used a sprig of mistletoe to fashion a dart of love. These same hands had just assisted Harry in taking down Voldemort. These same hands could help rebuild the damage the Dark Lord had done in his mad quest to take over the Wizarding World.
It kept me safe so I could keep you safe, she thought, blue eyes watching his every move. I kept you safe the best way that I knew how.
He kissed her then, soft and slow, trying to explain how he felt without using words. He wasn't very good at words, not like she was. He was clumsy, broken to pieces and glued back together all wrong. He was angles and odds, something stuck into the Longbottom family tree like an afterthought. It was only lucky that he had made it this far.
Luna didn't see him as a clumsy, broken thing. Neville was strong, with a lovely heart. She believed that he could be whatever he wanted to be. He wasn't an afterthought, he wasn't a spare hero. She didn't see cracks and bumps and forgotten bits of glue. She saw beauty and patterns, a design drawn out of love. She saw the branches of mistletoe, the milky white seeds ready to fall and attach themselves to a new plant, a new home. She saw him as he wished he could see in himself, and she saw the parts of him he hadn't even known were there.
He liked how he looked from her eyes.
Neville looked at her shyly, hand held out to help her up. "It's going to be a long walk home," he murmured. He took the mistletoe from her fist and put it in his pocket after giving it a generous shake. Luna approved mightily, nodding.
"We should Apparate," Luna said softly, threading her fingers through his. "I'm a little cold for a lot of walking."
"You should meet my Gran," Neville replied. "She can be awful stern at times."
"She hopes for the best, doesn't she?" Luna smiled. "Sometimes they're the ones most likely to be infested by Nargles, did you know that? Because their eyes are frail, they don't see the tiny little things until it's too late. Do you think we should check her for Nargles?"
Something in Neville's chest sang with delight. His Gran would be horrified if they checked her for Nargles. But he wanted to now, oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to see what they looked like, and he wanted to see Luna's brilliant smile again. He wanted to feel her hand in his, and he wanted to sit next to her by the fireplace in his Gran's house. He wanted to show her all the things he had known as a boy, all the fearsome places and wonderful sights. He wanted her to find the magic and mystery in the place. He wanted her to see his world through her eyes, to have the wonder infused into it again.
"It's a big house. I think she keeps to the tradition of keeping up the old mistletoe and then burning it on Christmas when she puts the new one up. There might not be Nargles in the house, then, right?" Neville asked.
Luna smiled. "Oh, but they're tenuous creatures. They never let go. Perhaps we may find one, still. It would be awful that was the case."
Neville held her hand tightly. "I want you to meet my Gran, Luna. Really, I do."
"My father will like you, too," Luna replied dreamily, lips stretching into a soft smile. Neville found himself grinning back at her. "You're like him, you know. Serious and hard working, and fighting so hard to keep loved ones safe. You're a sprig of mistletoe yourself."
They kissed again, arms around each other.
For once, he understood everything. And for once, he got Apparition perfectly right.
The End.